Prisoner
by MortalPangs
Summary: Nina's life was always predictable; an element she had thrived on in order to pursue perfection. However recently, it took a turn. Despite maintaining composure in the outside world, she cannot forget that night after the function...


The cold expression of my reflection stared back at me hard; challenging; disapproving. I reached out with a shaking hand to touch the mirror's surface, pressing my palm up against it, connecting with the girl forever trapped behind the prison of glass. I knew it would be foolish not to practice my routine once more before bed, remembering the way Thomas' gaze had undressed me as I danced; he demanded nothing short of perfection. He thrives on the poise and elegance of the arched backs, elongated frames and soft faces of _his _dancers; his girls. I wanted to impress him; to satisfy his gluttony for the young and naive... yet, I was not innocent. I did not want to pleasure him like the others... flitting about him in the studio like a haze of moon moths, each daring to dance a little closer to the burning intensity of a dangerous flame. Not were the consequences of physical affection that perturbed me, but the feelings I had for the girl with dark eyes.

Images of her supple skin, her tresses that tickled my neck flicked through my mind incessantly like a moving picture book. One page: the tension when we first encountered, another the lingering looks in studio change rooms, then came the delicate brushes of hand to stocking, the laughs shared during those long nights when everyone else had abandoned ship, or the moment when it all changed... with the moon shrouded by clouds in the sky behind the glass windowpane of her apartment, and the buzz of cars humming in the lively city below, and the soft yellows which glowed through gauzy curtains. Her shoulders visible as she leant over me, the glint in her eye catching the outside light...

It had been another slow function, an evening of polite smiles and passive nodding and reserved judgements. She floated among the suit-clad aristocrats effortlessly, her hair swaying in its tumble of waves when she laughed. I could not help looking at the way the black lace and satin of her dress had clung to her curves, with that slip running the length from hip to toe revealing more skin than the Royal Ballet Association would have ever witnessed. Yet no one said a word... who would? The desire to slip under the covers with her was undoubtedly burning in every man... and woman. As the crowd began to disperse, she had come over to me with a glass of amber liquid and suggested we drive back to her place... it wasn't far.

She flicked on the light switch to a small room crowded with books, records, paintings, postcards... all of which I admired while she went to the bathroom. We talked on her rug for a while, propped up on pillows and gazing out at the city's nightlife. She recalled an amusing moment, we both laughed, and then she leaned in a little closer than before. I turned my gaze toward her and saw that spark in her eyes that suggested what I had been craving for so long. We held our stare for what seemed like ages, with her hand having touched my thigh at some point earlier now making itself known; sliding up under my dress slowly, pressing itself against my skin. Then I looked around at the cluttered space and she knew what I was thinking. She got up, turned the light off and held out a hand... a hand which beckoned to be held and followed.

We entered a dark room, she reached up and held my chin and drew in close. Our lips parted and connected. I felt the warmth and softness of her mouth, the flicking of her tongue as it eased my lips open further. I ran my hands through her hair as she stroked my body... skin warm with the desire for more, our hands clammy, the air heavy. Then we fell, hitting the bed and pulling hair, easing off fabric, we grinded in the much-awaited passion. Ah, the ecstasy of love! The lights danced on our moving bodies... the city praising our act.

I heard footsteps padding down the hall... Mother. I'd become so absorbed in my thoughts once again, she'd be sure to worry about my spending too much time in the bathroom. I splashed my face with frigid water and turned the tap tight. As I moved to switch off the light, my eyes fell upon those of the girl behind the glass. Perhaps it was my wandering mind, but I was sure the right corner of her mouth had tweaked upward momentarily, matched by a gleam in her eyes from behind her confines.


End file.
